


The Freedom of Flight

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Game(s), Road Trips, ashe/cyril is in the background, it mainly focuses on the friendship between cyril & ferdie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: The mission would include two days to get to Enbarr, at least one day in the middle for the actual meeting, and two days for the return trip; five-plus days alone with the loudest man in the country was not Cyril’s idea of a good time.Cyril's tasked with flying Ferdinand to an important meeting, and along the way realizes he may not be that bad after all.
Relationships: Cyril & Ferdinand von Aegir, Cyril/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41
Collections: Fire Emblem Three Houses Rarepair Port Secret Santa





	The Freedom of Flight

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the fe3h rarepair server's Secret Santa. I hope my giftee enjoys :) :)
> 
>  **Note:** This takes place in a postgame Blue Lions route where Ferdinand left the Empire and joined the Kingdom.

“What’s up?” Cyril said, standing before Archbishop Byleth. “I heard you were looking for me?” Ferdinand was in the room for some reason, too, standing just behind the Archbishop; his smile looked a little more tense than usual. The whole situation felt strange, and Cyril couldn’t guess what might be happening. It made him feel on-edge.

“I need you to fly Ferdinand to Enbarr,” Byleth said, voice as flat as ever. “The two of you will leave tomorrow.” 

“Enbarr?” Cyril echoed. “Ferdinand? - why?” 

Ferdinand chuckled, as if he found Byleth’s inability to explain anything amusing instead rather than aggravating. “I am sorry for the short notice, Cyril. There is a very important meeting in Enbarr that I must attend, but the messenger delivering the news was delayed. We found out only an hour ago, and the meeting is in three days.”

That explained the flying, at least, but - “Why me? Wouldn’t it be faster for him to take a pegasus?”

“You are the fastest flyer here, I have been told,” Ferdinand said. “You are the only person we would call on in such a crisis!”

“Ferdinand doesn’t know how to fly by himself,” Byleth said. “Two people on a pegasus would be slow. A wyvern is better.”

Ferdinand winced, though his smile didn’t falter. “That… is also true.” 

“You leave tomorrow morning,” Byleth said. “Depart as early as possible. Even with you flying as fast as you can, it may be a tight schedule.”

“Nah,” Cyril said. “We’ll make it, no problem.” 

Byleth nodded. Ferdinand beamed. And Cyril, torn between annoyance and pride in their faith in him, shifted from foot to foot. “Maybe I should take off. I’ve gotta get ready.”

“Of course,” Byleth said. 

“I shall prepare also,” Ferdinand said. “I look forward to our journey!”

Flying, to Cyril, was old hat. Transporting people on his wyvern wasn’t new to him either, and that would be no problem at all: she could hold many times his weight without even slowing down. But Ferdinand? Cyril didn’t know the man well, didn’t even know all that much about him - only that he was from the Empire, had defected and helped them defeat his own homeland, and now worked for the Archbishop, doing… something. Something political. Cyril didn’t know, didn’t care.

But Cyril knew Ferdinand was friendly, and pushy, and  _ loud.  _ The mission would include two days to get to Enbarr, at least one day in the middle for the actual meeting, and two days for the return trip; five-plus days alone with the loudest man in the country was not Cyril’s idea of a good time. It was a peaceful, low-risk mission, but there was a small part of him that would have preferred a battle. It was his duty to obey the Archbishop, though, even if the Archbishop was no longer Rhea, so Cyril bit his tongue. He would endure. It would be over soon enough.

He bumped into Ashe on his way out of the meeting room. “Hello, Cyril!” he said, voice cheerful. “Where are you going in such a hurry? Do you have a new mission?”

Cyril stopped walking and sighed, finding himself all too ready to open up. After the war, he and Ashe had decided, completely independently of one another, to join the Knights of Seiros; they were both in training now, and though there were others in the same position, Ashe was Cyril’s closest friend among them. “It’s sort of a new mission,” Cyril said. “More like the Archbishop just using me as a delivery boy.”

Ashe frowned, confused, and Cyril continued: “I’m supposed to fly Ferdinand to Enbarr as fast as possible, to make some kind of meeting. It’s only three days away, so the Archbishop is sending me ‘cause I can fly fastest.”

“Oh,” Ashe said. “That’s a strange mission.” 

“It really is.”

“But… at least it’s a peaceful one, right? And quick.”

Cyril shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It could be nice!” Ashe was smiling, and, as always, Cyril found his good mood infectious. “Flying across the country - getting from here to Enbarr in such a short time… it sounds like incredible fun.” 

“Oh, flying  _ is  _ fun. I like flying a lot,” Cyril said. “It’s not the flying part that bugs me.” 

“What bugs you?”

They were only just outside the meeting room where the Archbishop and Ferdinand still were, so Cyril just shrugged again. It felt somehow mean to name Ferdinand aloud - and risky to boot, with him so near. “Just… the suddenness of it,” Cyril said instead. “It rubs me the wrong way.”

“I understand,” Ashe said. “Normally we get much more warning before we’re sent off.” 

Cyril nodded, and the two of them stood in silence for a few seconds. Cyril’s heart was pounding so loud he could hear it in the quiet hall. He wanted to say something else, but, lately, he never seemed to know what to say around Ashe. They could talk about their missions just fine, but whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Cyril’s brain seemed to stop functioning. He felt like a little kid again, awkward and unsure of himself in a way he hadn’t been in years. 

Suddenly the door opened, and Ferdinand emerged. It was almost a relief to have the silence shattered, as if a weight had been taken off Cyril’s chest. 

“Hello!” Ferdinand said, smiling down at both of them. “It is nice to see you both.” 

They had seen each other two minutes ago, of course, but Cyril felt Ferdinand meant it - and that made it worse, somehow - the absolute _sincerity_ of it. He was the type of person Cyril always expected to be mocked - not that Ferdinand was mocked, not openly at least, not with his position as the Archbishop’s right hand.

“Hello!” Ashe said. “Heard about your mission with Cyril.”

“Ah, yes,” Ferdinand said, running a hand through his hair. “It was quite a shock to receive such a last-minute invitation! The Archbishop and I are very grateful to Cyril for helping on short notice like this.”

Cyril was about to grumble about that, but, with both of them looking so enthusiastic and chipper, he thought better of it. He just shrugged and looked at Ashe. 

“It must be nice, to be able to go anywhere in the continent that you want to go,” Ashe said to Cyril. He was still smiling, but he had a strange, faraway look in his eyes, one Cyril couldn’t read. “When you have to go to Enbarr, you can be there in just a few days. And when you get time off, you can go anywhere in Fódlan you want, just because you feel like it. That kind of freedom must feel incredible.” 

“Yeah,” Cyril said. “It’s… it’s pretty neat.” 

But even as he spoke the words, he felt a pang, almost as if he were lying to Ashe. Cyril had always intended to travel around Fódlan, but, for reasons he couldn’t really explained, he hadn’t, not yet. He’d gotten wrapped up in his training, and every time he got a break, he kept himself busy - spending most of his time off helping around the monastery, training, or visiting Rhea. The freedom Ashe spoke of sounded incredible, but Cyril couldn’t say it was, not in all honesty. 

“Well,” Ashe said, after a moment’s pause, “I’d better let you two get ready for your mission. Good luck!”

“Thank you, Ashe,” Ferdinand said, beaming. “It is appreciated, although I do not think we will need it! We are more than capable!”

Cyril wandered away without a word, lost in thought. He went to the aerie and made sure his wyvern was in good condition for the long flight. Next he packed supplies for himself and Ferdinand, their food and drink and bedrolls. Only then did he go to bed, although he stayed up for a while, reading in bed by candlelight - a book Ashe had recommended. Though it was slow going, to know he was reading something Ashe had read before was somehow comforting to Cyril, as if it connected them. It was silly - Ashe hadn’t even read this particular copy of the book - but Cyril couldn’t shake the feeling, and wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

Only when he found himself reading the same line over and over again did he decide it was time to sleep. He slept well, but had odd, vivid dreams - of the knights from the book, and of flying, with the world stretched out below him like a map.

\--

Ferdinand, for all his faults, was a fast learner. Cyril could be grateful for that, even if Ferdinand got cocky about it when Cyril had the bad idea to compliment him.

But it made Cyril’s job easier, at least. Ferdinand took well to flight, and once they got into the air, Cyril quickly stopped worrying about his passenger falling off. Ferdinand had his arms wrapped around Cyril’s waist, and, thankfully, he was quiet much of the time they were in the air. Occasionally he’d point out landmarks he recognized down below, but otherwise he kept talking to a bare minimum - he probably assumed, rightfully, that it would be too difficult to hear him above the rushing of wind in their ears. They were going as fast as Cyril dared push his wyvern, and it seemed like the very air was screaming around them.

They flew until they could barely make out the ground below them in the dusky light, then set up camp quickly. Cyril built a fire as Ferdinand paced around, apparently composing a speech. Cyril caught scraps of phrases here and there, but didn’t ask about it, and didn’t linger to eavesdrop. When the fire was burning at last, Cyril cooked food for them, and Ferdinand took his portion with only a half-hearted “Thank you.”

_ He’s nervous, _ Cyril thought. He didn’t know Ferdinand well, but the man wore his heart on his sleeve, and his anxious mood was catching. Cyril didn’t like that; it made him feel on-edge and jittery, too. Trying to be reassuring, he said, “We’re making good time. Seems like we’ll get you to that meeting, no problem.” 

“Ah. Wonderful,” Ferdinand said, nibbling half-heartedly on his dinner. “Much appreciated.”

So Ferdinand’s fear wasn’t of being late, Cyril realized. It had to be a fear of their destination. He paused, then, against his better judgment, decided to push the issue. “So… What’s up?” 

Ferdinand raised his head, frowning, to look Cyril in the eye. “Excuse me?”

“What’s got you all worked up? Something about this meeting making you nervous?”

“Oh…” Ferdinand sighed. “Yes. That is correct.”

Cyril wasn’t great at comforting people, but he might as well practice. “You can tell me, if you think it’d help.”

“Oh, I am not sure it will make any difference,” Ferdinand said. “But the truth is that I was given so little time to prepare, and the occasion is  _ very _ important. I am feeling unsure of myself. I normally take several weeks to compose a speech, but now I have had to do it in such a short time - and in less than ideal conditions, to boot.”

“While flying, you mean?”

“Well - yes… and without being able to practice it on the Archbishop, as I am used to.” 

“You can practice on me, if you think it’d help.” 

Ferdinand smiled. “I am not ready yet, but I shall remember your offer. And thank you.”

“Not a big deal, really,” Cyril said, staring into the fire. But just like that, Ferdinand’s entire mood had turned around - and Cyril felt better already, too. Did Ferdinand know how powerful he was, that he could influence the mood of everyone around him with just a smile or a frown? 

“We should get to sleep soon,” Ferdinand said, rising and dusting himself off. “Another long day of flying is ahead of us tomorrow.”

Cyril couldn’t help but agree, and rose to kick dirt on the fire. Soon they were both sound asleep: Ferdinand wrapped up tightly in a bedroll, Cyril nestled beside his wyvern, with one of her wings draped over him like a blanket. He slept unexpectedly well, and, unlike the night before, he did not dream.

\---

They reached Enbarr before dusk the next day. The meeting was to take place the following morning; they’d made it with time to spare. Cyril landed his wyvern in a clearing just outside of town, as close as he could get to the dense city limits. “I’m not sure if I can get you any closer,” he said to Ferdinand, as they both stretched their cramped limbs. “There aren’t many places for a wyvern inside of a big city. But I could look around for a big open space closer to the middle for you, if you’d like - a park or something.” 

Ferdinand looked thoughtful. “I suppose I did not consider this. An inn will probably not have a place for a wyvern to stay.”

“Nope,” Cyril said. “I was just planning to spend the night here, camp out again. Doesn’t bother me, really.”

“Then I shall camp with you, and go into town tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Cyril said. “You can go into town and stay at an inn.”

“If you are camping, I will, too,” Ferdinand said. “It would not be fitting for me to subject you to these conditions without experiencing them myself!”

“Okay,” Cyril said. “That’s… whatever.” He could have said that he was more used to camping than Ferdinand was, that only one of them actually needed to camp, that it would save time the next day for him to stay at an inn close to the meeting location - but Ferdinand’s voice was firm, and Cyril felt it would be about as productive as arguing with a stone wall. And, oddly enough, the idea of Ferdinand’s company didn’t bother him as much as he might have expected.

As they were setting up their campsite, Ferdinand turned to Cyril and asked, “Does your offer still stand?”

It took Cyril a second to realize what he was talking about. “You want me to listen to your speech, right?”

“That is correct!” Ferdinand beamed. “Knowing you will have heard it before I give it in front of an audience will reassure me. If you do not mind…”

“Go ahead.” Cyril settled down in front of the fire. Ferdinand stood on the other side. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began.

It was some sort of progress report about things the Archbishop had been working on, and it seemed like the other listeners would have more context than Cyril did; many of the details went over his head. But Ferdinand spoke with such enthusiasm that Cyril found himself listening closely anyways, as if it was a story and Ferdinand a storyteller. Cyril even felt the urge to clap when it was done.

“That was really good,” he said to Ferdinand, and meant it.

“Thank you!” Ferdinand bowed, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for being such a good audience, as well. Do you have any suggestions? Ways I can improve?” 

“No,” Cyril said. “Not that I can think of. You did a good job.” 

“I am grateful for your praise!”

The funny thing about Ferdinand, Cyril thought, was that even though everything he said was so over the top, you could tell he meant every word. He really was grateful for Cyril’s praise, and that Cyril had listened to his speech. And that was comforting, in a strange way. As a knight in training, Cyril was getting treated better than he’d been treated throughout most of his life, but it was still rare for his opinion on things like this to be valued - particularly by someone of a high rank. Ferdinand respected him, and made that respect obvious. 

_ Maybe, _ Cyril thought,  _ just maybe, he might not be so bad after all. _

\---

The next morning, they woke early, and Cyril flew Ferdinand into the city center. He found an open area to drop him off in, close enough to the meeting location that Ferdinand would not be late; then he took off on his wyvern, and spent the rest of the day exploring.

Together they flew over the outskirts of Enbarr, farm fields and rivers and tiny towns, set so far below them they could have been a child’s toys. It was more fun to fly solo - they could go faster and higher, stop more suddenly and take sharper turns - but Cyril found it lonely, too. He didn’t miss Ferdinand, exactly, but found himself wishing for company nonetheless.

And, when he was swooping low over a lake, close enough that his wyvern’s claws nearly broke the surface of the water, a voice cut through his thoughts:  _ That kind of freedom must feel incredible! _

_ It does, _ Cyril thought, smiling.  _ It really does. _

\---

Cyril and Ferdinand spent that night in the same campground and made plans to fly out the next morning. The meeting must have gone well, Cyril thought, because Ferdinand’s mood was just about the highest he’d ever seen it: he was whistling as he helped gather firewood, and didn’t even complain when Cyril burned their dinner. 

“Did everyone like your speech?” Cyril asked. He wasn’t sure why he made conversation now - but when Ferdinand was in a good mood, he felt more at ease, too. 

“I believe so!” Ferdinand smiled to himself. “Certainly it seemed to make an impact.”

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Of course,” Ferdinand said. “Anytime, Cyril.”

Cyril shifted, not knowing quite how to phrase his thoughts. “When you have to do something you’re really nervous about, how do you make yourself do it? How do you get rid of the fear? Was it practicing that made you feel better about giving the speech? ‘Cause you were really nervous, just the other day.” 

Ferdinand nodded. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I do get a little nervous every now and then. Even in my position, even with my upbringing, it still happens. But, yes, practicing can help, as can visualizing the scenario in my head - picturing myself doing it perfectly, again and again, until I cannot see any possibility of failure.”

Cyril nodded. He’d never tried that, but it didn’t seem like bad advice; he might just feel a little silly. But if it helped…

“But, in the end,” Ferdinand went on, “sometimes there is no way to erase one’s nervousness entirely. And that is just life! There is no choice but to power through. You have been in battles,” he added. “You know how it can be. It is not always possible to feel at ease.”

“Yeah,” Cyril said. “But I’ve been fighting for a long time. I’m not as used to talking to people. Sometimes that feels harder than fighting.”

Ferdinand looked at him for a long moment, and Cyril squirmed under the directness of that gaze - like Ferdinand could see through him, straight into his head. Then Ferdinand smiled and huffed out a laugh, breaking the spell. “Sometimes it does indeed,” he said. “But, Cyril, I have the utmost faith in you.” 

“You do?”

Ferdinand nodded. “Absolutely! You are a charming young man, and anyone would be lucky to have you!” 

“I…”  _ What are you talking about?  _ Cyril wanted to say; but Ferdinand seemed so pleased with himself, and so completely sincere, that Cyril didn’t bother questioning it. “Thanks,” he said. He’d never been called “charming” before. He didn’t mind the sound of it.

\---

The first thing Cyril did once they’d returned to the monastery was request time off. No missions for a week, he asked the Archbishop, and the request was approved without question. Cyril got paid more for this mission than he felt he deserved - it hadn’t been  _ that _ much of a bother to carry Ferdinand, really - but he wasn’t going to argue about it. All in all, he walked away from the Archbishop with a spring in his step, weighed down by the coins in his pocket but feeling lighter than ever.

He was hoping he’d bump into Ashe again on his way out, but his day wasn’t so serendipitous. And he didn’t run into Ashe in the dining hall, either; he had to go all the way to the library to find him, curled up by the window with his nose in a book.

“You’re going to miss dinner, you know,” Cyril called out, and Ashe nearly dropped the book in his surprise.

“Cyril!”

“Heya, Ashe.”

“I’m glad to see you’re back,” Ashe said, jumping to his feet. “How did everything go?” 

“It went just fine,” Cyril said. He paused; the familiar awkwardness was threatening to overtake him, but he shook it off. No, not this time; he  _ had  _ to get the words out. “Hey, uh, Ashe?”

“Yeah?”

“You - you should ask for some days off,” Cyril said. “The Archbishop said I won’t get another mission for a week. I bet you could get some time off, too.”

Ashe was looking at him curiously, frowning. “What for?”

“I want… I want to go traveling,” Cyril said.  _ Almost, but not quite right. _ He swallowed and tried again. “I want to go traveling  _ with you.” _

Ashe’s cheeks flushed. “Y-you do?”

“Yes,” Cyril said. He thought of Ferdinand, of his seemingly-effortless confidence that was not, in reality, so effortless at all, and pushed on despite the fear. “If you want, we can get on my wyvern and go anywhere you want, anywhere in Fódlan. Or nowhere in particular - we can just fly where the wind takes us. So - do you want to?”

“Yes,” Ashe said. “Yes, Cyril, I’d - I’d love that. I’ll ask the Archbishop right away.”

They stared at each other for a long moment; Ashe’s eyes were bright, and brilliant - Cyril could get lost in them if he wasn’t careful. All he wanted was to stare into those eyes - or, better yet, to feel Ashe’s arms around his waist, holding tight to him, hear Ashe’s excited voice as they flew across the countryside.  _ Soon, _ Cyril told himself, smiling. “Better hurry,” he said to Ashe, turning around. “Like I said, dinner will be over soon. I’ll meet you down there!”

“Okay!” Ashe said. “I’ll see you in a bit!”

Cyril watched him go. He felt so fond it was nearly painful - he was excited and nervous and happy all at once. Traveling, he didn’t care so much about - but with Ashe, he was excited for it, hungry for it. 

He made his way down to the dining hall, practically skipping, and saved a table for two.


End file.
